


slow chariot, lay me down (he’s coming to set me free)

by prettydizzeed



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Author is trans, Body Worship, M/M, Trans Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Trans Male Character, Trans Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, t4t, they’re in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25817371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettydizzeed/pseuds/prettydizzeed
Summary: “Still thrills you, huh?” Nicky murmurs as he pulls away, and Yusuf grins, warm and lovely, flushed like the sunset.“Every time,” he says, leaning down to kiss him again, and Nicky wraps his arms around him, hands clasped behind Yusuf’s neck, thumbs tracing up and down his highest vertebrae. C1, he remembers from somewhere; the atlas, holding up his entire world.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 30
Kudos: 186





	slow chariot, lay me down (he’s coming to set me free)

**Author's Note:**

> this is short & horny but i was desperate for some t4t content for them (& just trans Yusuf in general). hopefully i’ll write something with plot eventually lol
> 
> title from milk & honey by jessarae, which can be found in my joe x nicky playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/user/pearl-is-me/playlist/7vdXuiXcHyH2o1lR6ghrtx?si=RsS-eq51T-WB0xVWzfU5-Q

It’s over a week before they’re truly alone, but they eventually manage it, laying in bed as Nicky kisses a circle around Yusuf’s wrists. They haven’t borne the indentation of the zip tie since immediately after it was removed, but Nicolò has always been one for rituals. Yusuf tips his head towards him, a clear invitation, and Nicky complies.

“Still thrills you, huh?” Nicky murmurs as he pulls away, and Yusuf grins, warm and lovely, flushed like the sunset. 

“Every time,” he says, leaning down to kiss him again, and Nicky wraps his arms around him, hands clasped behind Yusuf’s neck, thumbs tracing up and down his highest vertebrae. C1, he remembers from somewhere; the atlas, holding up his entire world.

“What do you want?” he says against Yusuf’s lips. A pleasure to ask it, even now.

“Make love to me?” Yusuf asks, beautiful and vulnerable and soft, his strong hands tracing patterns on Nicky’s hip bones that feel so good it almost makes him dizzy. Nicky nods, scrambling for the bedside table.

It’s a running joke by now that they have a strap-on in every safe house, or at least all the ones large enough for them to have their own room. Nile stumbled across the lime green one in Liverpool by accident, Andy’s “Maybe not that drawer if you value your corneas” coming a half-second too late. 

“Fashionable,” she’d commented, opening the correct drawer on the second try, and Nicky had looked more like a priest than ever, like someone had just clarified that by ‘the birds and the bees’ they didn’t mean they wanted to know more about endangered species’ roles in pollination, and Yusuf had very seriously informed her that it glowed in the dark.

The one here is a tame dark gray, vaguely shimmery, classy. It’s Yusuf’s favorite, which makes it Nicky’s favorite because he gets to watch the way Yusuf’s breath catches as he takes it out of the drawer, pads to the sink on bare feet to wash it. His heady gaze doesn’t lessen even as Nicky fumbles with the harness. 

“Hundreds of years, and I can still never manage this part,” he says, shaking his head at himself, bemusement tinged with frustration. 

“Need some help?” Yusuf asks, tucking his fingers in the straps and tugging him forward as if by his belt loops. 

“Yeah,” Nicky says, aiming for casually flirtatious and ending up on the far left of breathless, and Yusuf winks as he finishes adjusting the straps, pats Nicky’s thighs in a way that makes him blush. 

Nicky will make him gasp, later, finger him so slowly and carefully that he groans, keep a running tally of how many languages Yusuf uses when he fucks him and make him laugh even as he swears. For now, though, he kisses him, feels hot all the way through his blood when Yusuf grinds against his cock that they bought together and tips his head back. God, that’s intimate, even now, even after all the ways and times they’ve known each other’s bodies, mapped and memorized the changes. Nicky runs a hand down Yusuf’s thigh; he’s stuck a needle in it once a week for decades, in dozens of countries, smoothing an alcohol swab over it gently even though it heals too fast to bleed. 

Nicky kisses his neck, cradling his head in one hand, drags his mouth down to his scars, some of the only ones that stay. He can’t help but trace his tongue down the line from Yusuf’s nipple to just under his pec, and Yusuf draws in a shaky breath. 

“Gorgeous,” Nicky says quietly, running his thumb along the length of the lines across Yusuf’s chest, and Yusuf kisses him hard. 

“Yes, you are,” he responds, the corners of his eyes crinkling as Nicky rolls his eyes. 

“I mean it,” he says, “you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” and even after centuries of whispering this same back-and-forth, Yusuf blushes above his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> i’m on tumblr @campgender if you want to yell about the old guard, esp trans stuff!


End file.
